What Would You Do?
by Shi-Toyu
Summary: John Watson crouched in the darkest corner of the room. Shivers wracked his body, but they had nothing to do with the frigid air. Back pressed against the wall, he tried to curl up even further into himself. What he wouldn't give in that moment to just be able to disappear…Angst and emotional trauma!


Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock!

What Would You Do?

John Watson crouched in the darkest corner of the room. Shivers wracked his body, but they had nothing to do with the frigid air. Back pressed against the wall, he tried to curl up even further into himself. What he wouldn't give in that moment to just be able to disappear…

He was filthy. His clothes and limbs were covered in grime and, bile rose in the back of his throat, blood. The red substance was just starting to dry and congeal, become tacky on his hands. He made an attempt to wipe some of it off on his trousers, but gave up soon after as it only just spread the gunk around.

How had he come to be here? Yesterday, he'd been sitting happily in 221B Baker St, drinking tea and typing up his newest blog entry. Now he had been reduced to this sick, feeble creature. And it was all _his_ fault.

A clang sounded through the warehouse, at least John _thought_ it was a warehouse, as the great metal door on the other side opened. Light spilled in, slicing through the darkness like the knife John had held earlier that evening had sliced through flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and block out the memory, but it only made the mental image sharper.

"How far the mighty had fallen, I see~!"

Jim Moriarty strolled towards him, grin nearly splitting his smug face and Westwood suit as impeccable as always. His happiness only made John feel sicker. He fought back the urge to flinch as the criminal mastermind crouched down beside him.

"Oh, Johnny…Look at what a mess you are…" John was pretty sure Jim was the only person in the world who could pull off sounding pitying and condescending at the same time. "Honestly, I didn't think you'd be able to do it. But, as always, you are full of surprises."

John just glared at the man. How he hated this man. He wanted to wrap his blood covered hands around that throat and squeeze. Never had John experienced such an intense feeling of hatred. Except there was one person whom he did hate more, one person who had so thoroughly earned his ire that his hatred had indeed turned to loathing.

That person was John Watson himself and everything he'd done to earn it had been in the last 24 hours.

Jim pouted as he appeared to read the other's thoughts. He'd been hoping to persuade John over to his side, not break him completely. Still…perhaps he just needed more time. After all, he'd managed to convince John this time.

"How did I fall for this?"

John's voice came out as little more than a rasp, not surprising considering how much smoke had been involved in that Big Ben incident only a few hours prior. Mycroft was probably still trying to figure out what had happened there.

Oh, wait…No he wasn't. John had made sure of that.

The bile rose in this throat again and John had to swallow it back to keep from emptying his guts out on the floor. Jim tutted at his obvious discomfort and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe at John's face. Perhaps this had started off as fun, but seeing the once proud soldier come doctor come detective's assistant reduced to this…it's was hard for even Jim Moriarty to watch. Time to remind him why he'd done it.

"Because I have something you want, Johnny-boy, something you _desperately want_."

The criminal mastermind almost hadn't expected it to work, when he'd first offered John the deal._ You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours._ Apparently the good doctor's unflinching moral compass could be corrupted after all. The backlash though…was this worth it?

In this one night, John Watson had lost everything. He wouldn't be able to go back home even if he wanted to. He'd never be able to face Sherlock Holmes again, much less look him in the eye. One look at him and the consulting detective would know what he had done, and _why_.

The worst part, John supposed, was that he knew he'd do it again. He knew that if Moriarty were to hold the same price over his head, he would not hesitate to jump through the hoops the man set. Using the wall to support himself, the doctor struggled to stand.

"What else…do you need me to do?"

The blonde was just so tired, now. His entire body ached and he didn't even want to think about cataloguing the injuries he's sustained. His eyelids felt as though they weighed at least a stone each. He was adrenalin crashing, and hard. He drew a hand over his face, leaving a long smear of blood behind but not quite able to bring himself to care.

Jim stood with him, taking a few steps back to ensure he was out of the range of fire should the change in altitude cause John to vomit. A glance over his trembling frame revealed that he had several bruised ribs, not to mention that a hip had been dislocated and reset. Under the layers of grime, he could just barely make out several of the larger lacerations that dotted the man's form. Dark bruising circled his neck, nearly invisible in the low lighting.

It was a miracle this man could even stand. He wouldn't be useful to anyone right now as anything more than cannon fodder and Jim Moriarty had plans for him that were so much sweeter…Best not to push him too far on his first time out of the gate. It wasn't really his strong suit, but perhaps a touch of kindness would ease the doctor's emotional turmoil. He needed to be more stable and pliable to Jim's will, if all of the mastermind's plans were to be realized.

"You're done for now. Let's get you cleaned up. I have a car waiting outside."

He turned to leave, keeping one eye on the man limping after him. Each step was labored and slow. He would definitely require at least a few days of recovery before Jim could put him to use again. On the bright side, the reminder of his prize seemed to bring a bit out of the depths of his mind.

Jim took a moment to wonder how he had ever though that John Watson was ordinary. If nothing else, the last 24 hours had proved that the man was indeed very, very interesting.

They slid into the back of the sleek black car, Jim being careful to make sure he sat well enough away from John to ensure that none of the grime was transferred. No way was he letting any of that filth get on his suit. Moran glanced at them in the rearview before pulling away from the curb. He already knew where they were going. They rode for several minutes in silence before John spoke.

"Moriarty…"

"Call me Jim. It'd only be right. After all, you're working for me now~!"

The doctor only barely flinched at those words, a good sign.

"Jim, then. Please, can I…?"

He was obviously struggling with how to phrase his request, but it hardly mattered. Jim already knew what he wanted. He reached into his pocket to retrieve the item. Amazing, how something so small could cause so much damage.

"I suppose you have earned it…Truly, Johnny-boy, I hope it was worth it."

And, with that, he passed the Klondike bar to the man beside him.

A/N: AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! I've been waiting to do this for WEEKS! I hope you all enjoyed it! I had this idea pop into my head and finally got the chance to sit down and take care of it. Please let me know what you think!


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